


First Yule

by Razziecat (EchoThruTheWoods), WandererRiha



Series: Foundling [2]
Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII, Dirge of Cerberus: Final Fantasy VII, Final Fantasy VII
Genre: Christmas, F/M, Foundling, Gen, M/M, Solstice, Yule, awkward shadow baby is awkward, midwinter festivities
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-06
Updated: 2019-01-19
Packaged: 2019-10-05 07:28:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,862
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17320616
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EchoThruTheWoods/pseuds/Razziecat, https://archiveofourown.org/users/WandererRiha/pseuds/WandererRiha
Summary: What it says on the tin.Nero's first Yule.





	1. December First

“So,” said Veld on December 1st, “what do you want to do for Yule this year?”

“Uh.” Vincent glanced up from his copy of _Arms and Ammo_. “I...hadn’t thought about it. You know it’s not really my thing anymore.”

“Yes.” Veld sat on the arm of the sofa, next to Vincent. “I know. And I don’t propose putting on a big spectacle. But there’s Nero, now.”

“And he’s never celebrated Yule.” Vincent set his magazine aside. “I don’t even know if he knows what it is. Pretty sure holidays weren’t a thing in Deepground.”

He leaned back, and Veld slid his arm around Vincent’s shoulders. “Probably not,” said Veld. “I know we usually keep it low-key, but maybe this time, we could do a little more, now that the health crises are over. Let Nero experience the holiday in a family setting.”

It wasn’t a bad idea. It was kind, and loving, and yet…. “Let me think about it?”

“Sure. There’s still time.”

Vincent did his best thinking alone, without distractions. He went out walking, heading toward the side of town that was farthest from the old city of Midgar, with its tangled, violent memories. 

The area just beyond Edge had taken on a little green in the last year or so, a few fast-growing trees already at the sapling stage, while varied shrubs and scattered weeds filled in as ground cover. The air was fresher here, away from the mako-and-rust-tinged winds of Midgar’s ruins. 

Although it was almost winter, temperatures had been mild; a few last stragglers still bloomed among the stonecrop and chickweed. As Vincent walked, other memories bloomed as well, pictures flashing by too quickly to grasp: Grapevines twisted into circles, his mother’s slender hands weaving ivy through them. Bright berries of red and blue, holly and juniper, tucked among pine boughs. Palms and ferns gracing the Yuletide dinner table in warmer climes, orchids with petals like pale moths, standing tall beside white candles and a bowl of jacaranda blossoms.

Grimoire Valentine’s small family traveled with him on his research jaunts; for the first decade of his life, Vincent never knew where they’d be at the end of the year, or what the smells, sights and sounds of the season might be, but some things were constant. Greenery, candlelight, a special meal, and small, sometimes handmade gifts: All of these could be counted on. 

Most important, there was the sunrise on the following day, as the wheel of the year turned once again toward spring, and summer, and the return of light and life.

Vincent stood silent as the sun sank toward the horizon, remembering. Grief was still sharp and bitter, loss after loss still following him as closely as his own shadow. The one bright spot--well, two of them--were Veld and Nero. They made everything worthwhile.

Veld had his own losses, as did Nero. If Veld wanted to give Nero a happy Yuletide season, surely Vincent could go along with it. Perhaps the three of them could find that sunrise together.

At home again, he found Veld in the kitchen, as usual on his day off. 

“So, Yule...what do you suggest? I assume a really nice dinner is on the table, so to speak.”

“Naturally.”

“You want to decorate?” Vincent winced at the idea. Modern Yule decor appalled him; it was all cheap plastic, garishly-colored, some of it only tangentially-related to the meaning of the holiday. Just the thought of huge, inflatable cartoon characters made him shudder.

“From your expression, I’m guessing you’re not in favor,” said Veld. He set a pair of steaming mugs down on the table, nudging one toward Vincent.

“Not of the way it’s done now.” Vincent picked up the tea, breathing in the fragrance of orange and cinnamon. Veld always brought out this blend when the cold weather crept in. 

“When I was a kid,” said Vincent, sipping tea, “we rarely spent Yule in the same place two years in a row. My father was always doing research somewhere, so we had to have our celebration wherever we happened to be. 

“My mother would pick fresh greenery to mark the change of seasons. It could be anything from evergreens to palms. We usually had seasonal fruits and flowers, too. And candles. There were always candles.” He glanced at Veld. “Could we do something like that?”

“We can do anything you want, spook.” Veld drank from his own mug of tea. “Whatever you think you and Nero would like.”

\---

Leaving the planning of Yule dinner in Veld’s more-than-capable hands, Vincent focused instead on acquiring decorations he could live with. Edge had only one garden center, a small, struggling lot that mostly offered cut flowers, obviously imported, plus a modest selection of herb plants, and a few potted shrubs. Even with Yule coming, the pickings, so to speak, were scarce. He couldn’t help musing on how much better the stock would be if Aeris had been there. 

Well, that only left gathering his own greens. It took most of a day, but eventually, as dusk settled over Edge, Vincent returned to the house laden down with boughs and branches of various trees, vines, and shrubs.

Peering through the tangle of branches in his arms, he missed the front step and nearly fell over it, saved only by a sudden tight grip on his arm. 

“Dad?” Nero’s voice, although Vincent couldn’t see more than the top of his head over the greenery. “Why are you bringing all these branches and things into the house?”

“I’m….decking the halls.” Getting his feet under him, Vincent managed to navigate up the steps. “Get the door, Nero, please?”

Inside, he laid his harvest on the floor. It made an impressive, and fragrant, pile of greenery. Nero, mystified, stepped carefully around the heap of plants. “This is another weird surface thing, isn’t it?”

“No,” said Vincent, “I mean, yes, it’s a surface thing, but it’s not weird.” At Nero’s skeptical look, Vincent continued. “Do you know what Yule is?”

“You mean the hibernal solstice? Sure. It’s when the planet’s pole is at maximum tilt away from the sun.”

Well, he couldn’t fault Deepground’s science education.

“Not that,” said Vincent. “That’s the scientific explanation, sure. But Yule is what we call the holiday that falls on the day of the solstice.”

Nero’s expression of puzzlement deepened. “It’s a holiday? Why?”

“Well, people celebrate the fact that the days will be getting longer again, and the world is moving toward summer once more.”

“But that would happen anyway. It’s just an astronomical phenomenon. And what do a bunch of dead branches have to do with it?” 

“They represent life.” 

Realizing that “life” and “dead branches” didn’t quite go together, Vincent pulled an evergreen branch out of the pile. “You see? These stay green even in winter, so people associate them with returning life.”

Nero blinked. “But that’s because they produce chlorophyll all year. The leaves are small and resistant to cold, and they don’t lost moisture like deciduous trees do.”

It was like a replay of one of his father’s long-ago lectures. Nero was most definitely a Valentine. 

“Yes, but that’s not the point. It’s about the wheel of the year, the cycle of seasons, and renewed life.”

Veld, listening quietly from the kitchen doorway, said, “Did you happen to check that stuff for any ‘life’ we don’t want in the house? There hasn’t been a hard frost yet this year. I don’t want an infestation.”

“Ah. Um.” Vincent eyed the heap of branches. “Not...as such.”

Veld shook his head. “Take it back outside and shake everything off.”

Sighing, Vincent gathered everything up, with Nero’s help, and removed it to the front porch. 

“Here, let me.” Nero’s shadows flowed from his hands, washing over the branches, ribbons of darkness weaving in and out and through. Vincent fancied he saw a few scurrying insects carried away over the edge of the porch and out onto the lawn, but he couldn’t be certain he wasn’t imagining it. 

“That should do it.” The shadows retracted, pulled back through Nero’s long fingers. 

“Thank you. Help me take it back inside?”

\---

Botany wasn’t Vincent’s strongest point, but he’d chosen things he was familiar with. Old memories came back to life, of working alongside his mother, stringing garlands while she created sprays and wreaths. Veld provided some kitchen twine, and Vincent picked out boughs of long-needled white pine. 

“Sit down,” he told Nero. “I’m drafting you as seasonal help.”

Bemused but willing, Nero caught on quickly, and set to work tying pine branches together to create a garland. After a couple of false starts with the twine, Vincent found a roll of wire and a pair of wire cutters under the kitchen sink, and Nero began wiring the branches together. 

“Do I want to know what this is usually for?” he asked as he measured a length of wire and cut it.

“Oh, just...household stuff.” Vincent caught Veld’s eye. Veld gave him a look of bland innocence and retreated back to the kitchen. Vincent shook his head. Turks. 

They worked in companionable silence for a while. Vincent retrieved a coat hanger from his closet, and bent it into a circle - or something vaguely circular. Nero watched for a few minutes as Vincent wired shorter branches to the hanger, until a wreath began to take shape, then shrugged and went on with the garlands. 

“Okay,” he said finally, displaying several yards of garland. “Now what?”

Vincent reached over and picked a few pine needles out of Nero’s hair. “Now we hang it up. I’ll get a hammer and some nails.”

“Valentine,” Veld called, “please remember that we don’t own this house.”

 

As always, Veld was right. Vincent thought about it, and called Reeve, who certainly knew something about architecture. It turned out that hammering nails into brick was a very bad idea. 

Reeve explained about brick clips, and knew where to buy some. The clips were designed more for lightweight pictures or mirrors, but a little ingenuity with wire solved that, and by dinner time, the living room walls had been adorned with white pine garland from one end to the other. 

“It looks great,” said Vincent. “You did a fantastic job, Nero.”

“Thanks. What about the, um, circle thing?” Nero picked up the wreath to examine it more closely. Vincent had used holly, including clusters of bright red berries, and boxwood.

“The wreath goes on the front door.” Vincent rummaged in the bag from the hardware store, pulling out a straight length of flat aluminum with a hook at either end. One hook fit over the top of the door, and the wreath could be hung from the bottom hook. 

“It goes outside?” said Nero, watching as Vincent hung the wreath and shut the door again. 

“It’s traditional,” said Vincent, assessing what was left of the raw materials. “You could make one, if you want. Why don’t you make one for Max?”

Nero’s eyes lit up. “Do you think she’d like that?”

“I don’t see why not. Oh. Wait.” Vincent freed a dark green leafy plant with white berries from the pile of leftover greens. He fastened a small hook out of a piece of wire, attached the plant, and hung it from the bookcase shelf over the kitchen door. 

“Veld? Can you come out here for a minute?”

Veld stepped out of the kitchen. “What’s up, Vin--”

Vincent cut him off with a kiss square on the mouth. It took a couple of minutes for Veld to disengage--not that he tried very hard. Looking up, he rolled his eyes.

“Thought so.”

Nero, watching the proceedings with one eyebrow raised, spoke up. “What was that all about?”

“Mistletoe.” Vincent pointed to the plant hanging above the door. “It’s another surface quirk. If you catch someone standing under it, you have to kiss them. Here.”

He pulled another bunch of mistletoe out of the greenery on the floor. “Take some to Max.”

Nero blushed, but he also took the mistletoe and carefully set it aside. “I’ll just...make that wreath for her first.”

\---

Veld had to be honest with himself; if not for Nero, he wouldn’t have suggested doing anything special for Yule. Vincent wasn’t a fan of the holiday, and for Veld, it brought back memories that hurt more than they comforted. 

As a Turk, he’d spent most holidays on duty, guarding President Shinra, or handling other issues while his subordinates protected the president. He’d sent gifts to his wife and daughter, of course, but he was rarely able to take part in the Yule festivities in Kalm. He recalled only one Yule morning with his family, when Felicia was very small. It was strange, but he remembered nothing about that day’s dinner, whether it had snowed, or even what gifts he’d sent. 

He only remembered Felicia’s laughter, and the sparkle of her eyes.

Was he hoping to create something similar with Nero? The boy wasn’t a child, and had already seen things that could make grown men cringe. He wasn’t so much innocent as he was a little naive, and uninformed - or maybe unpracticed was a better word. He learned quickly enough. 

No question that Nero had had a horrible year. The destruction of Deepground, the loss of his siblings, and his own brush with death could not be wiped away with a Yule celebration; but if a few decorations, some special treats, and a symbolic return of light and life could make the ending of the year a positive experience for all of them, especially for Nero - then that was what Veld meant to accomplish.

“Sir?”

Veld managed not to twitch, but it was a near thing. Nero moved as silently as his shadows even when he hadn’t just stepped out of them.

“Hello, Nero. What’s up?”

“I have a couple of questions, if that’s all right with you.”

“About what?”

“Um. All of this...Yule stuff.”

Veld pulled out a chair at the kitchen table. “Sure. Why don’t you sit down? I’ve got some holiday bread you can try.”

Nero sat, and, courteous as always, waited while Veld took the walnut bread out of the refrigerator, found the cutting board and a knife. Finally, when the bread waited in the center of the table, and they each had a plate in front of them, Veld gave the boy an encouraging smile. 

“What’s on your mind, Nero?”

Nero took a deep breath. “Okay. So Dad explained about the trees, and the sun, and all of that. But I’m still not clear on presents. I mean...what does giving someone a gift have to do with the solstice?”

“Ah” Veld took a moment to think while he cut a slice of walnut bread for Nero, and one for himself. “Well, the tradition comes from ancient times, when people didn’t understand the science behind the solstice. The sun grew old and died each winter, and then was reborn, so people gave each other gifts in honor of the newborn sun. We know better now, but the tradition kind of stuck.”

Nero took this in in silence, nodding as he nibbled on the bread. “Birthdays are special up here, I know that. So...when someone has a child, you give them presents?”

Veld smiled. “We do. Useful things, usually, for the baby. Clothes, toys, blankets, and so on.”

“But it’s not the same thing.” Nero frowned, evidently thinking it through. “You wouldn’t give people baby clothes or blankets just because the days are getting longer…at least, not unless they had a baby at Yule. Right?”

“True. But remember, this is all symbolic now.”

“Oh.” Nero glanced toward the living room. “Like the evergreens and mistletoe? I mean, the planet’s axis is going to tilt back toward the sun eventually anyway. And the deciduous trees will grow leaves again, and you and Dad are going to kiss and everything like always.”

Veld paused with a piece of walnut bread halfway to his mouth. “Ah, yes. That’s correct.”

“So…” Obviously casting about for an explanation that made sense, Nero suggested, “so this is just...a good excuse for a party?”

“You know,” said Veld, recalling past times at Shinra, “I think you’ve nailed it.”


	2. Shopping

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Max and Nero brave the shops.

Nero approached every new surface thing as though there was going to be a test on it, and he was determined not to fail. On Max’s recommendations, he found a number of holiday movies to watch, which he did with a notepad on his knee, his pen poised ready in his other hand. 

Mostly recovered from his injuries, he was still on light duty, but didn’t dare to watch movies at the office. Late at night, the Turks’ lounge area was unoccupied, so he commandeered the DVD player and the sofa, and here he spent several nights exploring the mysteries of the Yule season.

Family celebrations seemed to be the central theme. Truly astonishing amounts of food were featured, and occasionally, copious amounts of alcohol as well. A huge roast chocobo took pride of place in most of the dinner scenes. After numerous lingering shots of tables groaning with meats, cheeses, breads, fruits, and something called “figgy pudding,” Nero paused the current movie and rummaged in the Turks’ small refrigerator for a snack.

He cobbled together a sandwich made from a cinnamon-raisin bagel, some ranch dip, and a slice of salami. It wasn’t Veld-quality food, but it made his stomach stop growling, and the leftover dip went well with a package of pretzel rods.

Around the middle of the third night, Reno wandered in, stretching and yawning. 

“Nero, man, what time did you get in?”

“Six o’clock,” said Nero, scribbling notes. 

“What? It’s only about five-thirty now.”

“I meant last night.”

“You haven’t been to bed?” Reno peered at the movie on the screen. “What’s all this?”

“Um, research.” Nero tapped on the stack of DVD cases on the side table. “For Yule.”

“Oh. Yeah, I guess you didn’t do Yule where you grew up, huh?”

Nero shook his head. “I’m just trying to catch up. Dad and Veld are doing all these things for the holiday.” He ducked his head, his hair falling forward to hide his face. “I don’t want to seem stupid.”

“You’re not.” Reno flipped through the stack of DVDs. “Huh. Haven’t seen this one for years. Oh, hey, that’s an old one. And this one’s not that great, you could skip this one.” 

“I don’t want to miss anything important,” said Nero, eyes on the screen again.

“Look, these are all pretty similar,” said Reno. “How many have you watched so far?”

“This is the ninth one.”

“Minerva’s tits, man, they must’ve covered everything that matters.” Reno sat cross-legged on the other end of the couch and reached for the pretzels. “C’mon, turn that off, and I’ll quiz you. I got some time before my shift starts. Let’s see what you’ve learned.”

Somewhat reluctantly, Nero complied; Reno was his mentor, after all, and it went against the grain to protest even though it wasn’t strictly an official order. 

“Okay, first question,” said Reno, crunching pretzels. “What does Yule mean?”

“Wheel,” said Nero promptly. 

“Correct. Next question: When’s it happen?”

“Around December 21st. It depends on the influence of other planets, and Gaia’s orbital and rotational--”

“Yeah, yeah, okay, that’s right.” Reno waved a hand. “You don’t gotta do a dissertation on it, kid, nobody’s scoring you.”

Nero flushed. “Right. Sorry.” He sat up a little straighter. “What’s the next question?”

“Lemme think.” Scooping up a blob of dip onto two pretzel rods at once, Reno considered. “What’s the significance of the sun to Yule?”

Remembering his conversation with Vincent about this very thing, Nero hesitated. “Do you want the scientific explanation, or the, um….traditional one?”

Reno raised on eyebrow. “Let’s have ‘em both,” he said, and listened, chewing pretzels while Nero spoke. 

“Kid, you got this,” he said, when Nero had finished. “You don’t need to spend every night watching these goofy films.”

Nero shrugged, his face growing warm again. “I like the songs.”

“Well, that’s cool. You can buy all that stuff and listen to it whenever you want.” Reno rose, brushing pretzel crumbs off of his uniform. “You’re off today, aintcha? Why don’t ya go Yule shopping with your cutie? You can pick up some tunes, and buy Max something red ‘n racy for Yule.” He winked, and sauntered off toward the door. 

Nero thought it over while he packed up the movies and cleaned away the remnants of his snacks. He had no idea if Max would like something ‘red and racy’ - she’d never mentioned being interested in any kind of racing - but the thought of time spent with Max made him smile. He’d catch a few hours sleep, and then give her a call.

\---

“Oh look!” said Max, pointing to a shop window. “They’ve got Hello Kitty hats!” 

“Oh yeah, that’s the cat on your underwear,” said Nero, eliciting a wide-eyed look from a passing older woman. 

“Yep.” Max winked at the old woman, who scurried away, blushing. 

“Do you want to go in there?” asked Nero, with a nod at the little shop. Even from outside, he could see it was crowded with shoppers, jostling one another as they examined the merchandise and snatched things up with eager fingers. 

“Not right now,” said Max, tugging on his hand to lead him past the shop. “I need to find something for mom, and that place is too expensive on a WRO stipend.”

Max already carried a large shopping bag, striped in red, white and gold; inside were several smaller bags, equally bright, stuffed with gifts for her friends. Bargaining was another surface quirk that Nero needed to learn. Used to requisitioning necessities, and only when they were truly needed, he’d accompanied Max to several tiny shops tucked away on side streets. 

Consignment stores and thrift shops were a new thing to him, as well, and he’d marveled at Max’s ability to bargain over prices with the holiday-harried shopkeepers. She’d stayed polite, but firm, willing to leave without a coveted item if the price wasn’t right. In the end, she’d walked away with several pieces of beautiful vintage jewelry, an antique silver picture frame, and a long scarf of silky, midnight-blue velvet. 

“I might give mom the scarf,” she mused as they walked along, dodging other shoppers.

Nero made a mental note of that. Yule preparations were proving to be an unexpected source of new concepts. Gift-giving occasions, for one thing, were numerous. He had no idea how people with large numbers of friends and family managed.

“Oh look!”

Nero jumped and whipped around, some distant part of him tensing for attack. There was no immediately obvious danger, just an unusually large mob of children with their noses pressed to a shop window. Max had gone over to join them. Although the children entirely blocked the sidewalk and the first twelve inches of the window, Nero was more than tall enough to see over their heads.

Inside the window was a display so elaborate and bright it felt like looking into shadow- except everything in this alternate dimension was full of light and color. There were a variety of miniaturized vehicles, all gleaming in the light, as well as a tiny train that chugged around the perimeter of the display. Little plush animals and humanoid figurines sat piled on various surfaces. Bicycles, scooters, and what looked like a chocobo mounted on rockers were also on display. Colorful books and boxes labeled as “games” were crowded in wherever there was room.

Leaning back, Nero eyed the animated neon sign. It spelled out “TOYS” in bold letters.

“I used to have one of those as a kid! I thought they stopped making them.”

Nero followed the line of Max’s pointing finger. It took him a moment to puzzle out what the object was: a sled. Propped on end in the corner of the display, it was painted a bright cherry red. The words “Red Racer XV” were painted down the middle slat.

“That one’s a lot bigger than the one I had,” Max observed. “Must have had siblings in mind, or maybe nostalgic adults.”

“What happened to yours?” Nero asked.

“I maaaay have attached fireworks to the runners,” she drawled. “I wanted a rocket powered sled like in this cartoon I used to watch. Except the coyote and I had about the same luck. Went about 200 yards at Mach two before flaming out. Oh I was okay,” Max hurried to amend at Nero’s horrified look. “The snow bank that I had intended to use as a ramp wasn’t as hard packed as I thought. Went right through it instead of up it. At least it put the flames out.”

“I take it the sled did not survive.”

“Sadly no,” Max sighed. “Mom got me a snow tube to replace it. Hard to get hurt on a big inflatable donut.”

Nero looked back at the sled as Max led the way to the next shop. Red and racy. Of course!

“Hey, let’s go get some coffee!” She pointed at a place across the street with a sign that read “Dark & Delicious: A Coffee & Tea Emporium.”

“Wait,” Nero said, rewinding a bit, following as Max headed for the coffee shop. “I thought you had somebody else in mind for that scarf?”

“Not really. It was just too pretty to pass up, and the price was fair. It’s good to have a few extra things, if you can get ‘em. There’s always somebody’s birthday or another occasion coming.”

“What are you getting for your dad?” Max asked as they joined the line for coffee. 

“Um. I don’t know?” The thought had been nagging at him for several days. “He’s not very materialistic. And I don’t think he needs clothes or things like that.”

“There’s always socks,” Max said, grinning. “No, babe, I’m kidding. Why don’t you ask the Turks where the best gun shop is?”

“Yeah, I could do that.” Their eyes met, and inspiration struck them both at once. As one, they said, “Vintage firearms!”

“Vincent loves stuff like that,” added Max.

“What about Veld, though?”

“Same,” said Max, “...or, no, wait. Cookware.” She gave a decisive nod, and stepped up to the counter to order their coffee. 

\---

Visiting was another thing that was new to Nero. In Deepground, one didn’t socialize. The occasional brief conversation when off duty was acceptable, but not the kind of thing that people on the surface did constantly. The casual nature of conversation in Turk HQ still struck him as odd. Passing in the corridor, meeting in the mess hall, waiting for another person to finish using the copy machine, all seemed occasions for the kind of idle chatter that would’ve gotten a person major discipline for wasting time in Deepground. 

It had taken weeks for Nero to lose the edge of nervousness that came naturally to him whenever someone engaged him in talk about anything other than work. At first, he hadn’t had much to contribute. He didn’t follow sports, hadn’t seen the movies, and he refused to discuss Max. 

He’d gotten better, especially now that he’d had time to absorb some cultural knowledge, but he was nowhere near comfortable with it yet. When Max had brought up a visit to her mom’s house, he’d had a moment of near-panic.

“On Yule? I think Veld’s got a special dinner planned,” he said, scrambling for an out that didn’t sound like a lame excuse.

“Oh, right, I should’ve thought of that,” Max went on. “It’s okay. My aunt Rina’s coming. Mom’s sister. She’d love you, but you might find her a bit much.”

“She would? I would?” Nero shook his head. “I don’t understand. We’ve never met, how could she love me?”

Max laughed. “Not like that. I mean she’d really like you. You’re different. So’s Rina. She’s...well, you’ve met mom.”

“Yes?” Nero liked Minori, Max’s mother, but the intensity of her gaze, and her polite but pointed questions, had put him on his guard at their initial meeting. He couldn’t imagine trying to make idle conversation with two such women. 

“Okay, well, Aunt Rina is the exact opposite,” said Max. “Well, not exact. I mean, she’s just as smart as mom, but she’s so much less reserved. She wears lime green and tells dirty jokes and makes a highball that’ll knock you on your ass.”

“She sounds like a Turk,” Nero observed.

“Yep.” Max snickered. “She asked Veld out on a date once. He declined, said he was taken. Vincent was standing right next to him. Rina said to bring him along, two handsome men are better than just one. He begged off, of course. She still refers to Veld as ‘the one that got away.’

“So, yeah, she can be a little hard to take if you’re the quiet type. But she’s kind and really sweet for all that.”

“I’ll...take your word for it,” said Nero, “if you don’t mind? I know dad and Veld have plans for Yule.”

“It’s fine, babe.” Max squeezed his hand. “Another time.” Weaving their fingers together, she smiled. “How about if we meet for lunch? Just you and me, the day before, or the day after? We can each have family time on Yule, but then...a special day for just us.”

“Okay. The day after.”

That settled, they finished their coffee, did a little more shopping, and headed home just as snow began to fall. By the time they reached Max’s apartment building, a fluffy white blanket covered the streets and sidewalk. 

“You coming in?” she asked at the front step. 

“I can’t, I have late shift at work.” 

“Oh, right.” Max patted his arm in lieu of a kiss goodbye, something that still made him twitchy after a lifetime of rules against such easy intimacy. 

He was halfway down the front sidewalk when Max shouted, “Nero! Heads up!”

He turned just as something soft and white hit his shoulder. A blob of snow fell to the ground, quickly followed by another that whizzed past his head to the sound of Max’s laughter.

He’d seen this in one of the movies. Grabbing a handful of snow, he smushed it into a ball and fired back at Max, all in one movement. It glanced off of her head, eliciting a squeal.

“Not bad for a newbie!”

“Newbie, huh?” Another five snowballs followed in rapid succession, peppering Max and the doorway with snow. She held up her hands in surrender, grinning widely.

“I give up! But I want a rematch!”

“Maybe another day?” said Nero, brushing snow off of his coat. “I’ll be late for work!”

“Okay, babe!” She blew him a kiss. “See ya!”


	3. Tree

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trees in the house.  
> O-kay.

“A tree?”

“Yes.”

“A coniferous tree. In the house. Not cut boughs, not a potted plant, but a cut down tree.”

“Yes Nero,” Vincent said patiently. “An evergreen tree.”

“ _Why?_ ”

“Er…” Vincent looked to Veld for help.

“Remember how we talked about Yule and parties? This is kind of the same idea. You know what folk tales and traditions are?” Veld asked.

“Not...really…” Nero stammered, still wary of not having the right answer.

Veld had a curious moment of deja vu as he tried to think how to explain. The last time he’d done so was when Felicia was little, just barely old enough to understand.

“Remember what Vincent said about the evergreen boughs? This is similar. It’s bringing life into the house when everything else is dead and cold.”

Nero nodded, processing this.

“Okay, with you so far. Why does this necessitate we kill a tree?”

“It’s not killing a tree!” Vincent insisted. “It’s just cut and put in water like you would cut flowers.”

“Cut flowers die, dad. An evergreen tree can live for hundreds of years in its natural environment.”

“When did you become so concerned about ecology?” Vincent wondered. Veld was struggling not to laugh.

“What about a potted tree?” he suggested. “Little table top one. Would save us having to buy a new one every year.” Not that he or Vincent had put up a tree in ages.

Vincent looked disappointed, but Nero was smiling.

“Yeah, let's do that.”

\--

It wasn’t as if they had a lot of decorations stashed away. Lights and baubles would have to be purchased. Rather than subject Vincent to a store that dealt primarily in decorations, Veld led the way to the hardware store. Lights and basic decorations could be found there, but without the heavy traffic of harried shoppers. Nero, unused to the bright and rather obnoxious lawn displays, nearly jumped three feet in the air when a large, inflatable snowman began bobbing about and singing.

“Gods what the hell?” he gasped, stumbling against Vincent. “We’re not doing...that...are we?”

“If I had my choice, I’d shoot it,” Vincent replied, patting Nero’s shoulder. This got him a weak laugh. Nero eyed the inflatable abomination warily until they left the store.

The tree was only about three feet tall, and had long, twiggy branches. It wasn’t full and fat like a Nibel fir, or an Icicle spruce, but It was the one Nero had selected.

“You ever make ornaments?” Veld asked.

Vincent shook his head. “Nah, mom decorated with natural stuff, mostly. The few times we were home, I remember a lot of antique stuff I wasn’t allowed to touch. Just as well, it was probably toxic; leaded glass, mercury, and lead paint.”

“My ma and I used to make chains out of paper, and little tinfoil stars. Only ever had a small tree, so when the holidays were over, we’d just shove the whole thing in the furnace.

“One year I found an empty birds nest on a window ledge. I cleaned it up and put it in the tree. Ma had a hat with a little bird on it. She took the bird off her hat and put it in the nest. That was the one thing we didn’t burn. Hell if I know what became of it.”

“Used to have a big box of molded glass ornaments that mom collected,” Vincent commented. “Guess they’re still in the attic somewhere if nobody auctioned them off.”

“How could someone sell them if they’re in the attic?” Nero asked. “I didn’t think your house had an attic?”

“I meant the house I grew up in,” Vincent explained. “It belongs to a cousin now, I think.”

“It’s a B&B now,” Veld corrected. “Guess none of your relatives wanted it. Could go visit some time if you wanted.”

“Oh,” Vincent blinked, nonplussed. “Huh. Yeah. Might be neat to see what they’ve done with the place.”

It didn’t take much to set up the tree. Nero brought a plant stand from the porch inside and draped a cloth over it. Vincent tied a bright red ribbon around the pot.

“Is there a reason for the decorations?” Nero asked. “Besides the aesthetic.”

“Once upon a time, you put gifts on the tree,” Veld explained. “Little things like cookies or candy, socks, handkerchiefs, and mittens. As stuff got more affordable, it also got bigger. Now we just put pretty things on the tree, and the gifts underneath it.”

Nero nodded and went back to untangling the lights from their cardboard packaging.

They strung the colored lights on the tree, and hung the few baubles that Vincent had bought. They made paper chains and tinfoil stars. The silver wire star that Vincent had bought was too big and too heavy for the tree.

“It doesn’t need a star. It’s fine the way it is.”

“It still needs something,” Veld observed. “It looks kinda empty still.”

“Yeah it needs something,” Vincent agreed.

Nero eyed the tree. “Like what?”

Digging in his pocket, Vincent produced a handful of used bullet casings. He knotted some kitchen twine and threaded it through the hole at the end. Veld laughed.

“Only you, Valentine.”

\--

“Aw it’s so cute!” Max clasped her hands, delighted at the little tree. “I love that it’s in a pot! ...are those bullet shells?”

“Yeah. Dad thinks it’s too small. The star wouldn’t stay on.”

“I can fix that.” Max had a barrette in her hair shaped like a sparkling silver snowflake. She took it out and fastened it to the highest branch.

“There. Perfect!”

“It does look better,” Nero agreed. “Does it need anything else?”

“Well, It does look a little empty, but I think that’s because of the type of tree it is. Most midwinter trees are a lot more fluffy. This one’s like a stick figure tree.”

“What else does it need?”

“Well, when I was little, mom and dad made origami garlands. We’ve had to patch them a few times as the paper wore out. He also folded some paper stars. You should put some stuff on there that’s important to you.”

“Like what?”

“I dunno. What’s something that you’d like to see on the tree?”

Nero thought about that. Shadow rippled around his hand, leaving a glimmering object in their place. A spider’s web crystallized in purple lay in his palm.

“Oh my gosh,” Max breathed. “Is that from the mako cave?”

“Yeah. I found it the other day. You get these now and then. The spiders spin silk infused with mako, and rather than disintegrate, it hardens into materia.”

“It looks delicate. Won’t it break?”

“Nah, it’s actually super strong. You could drop it on the floor and it’d be fine.” Nero fixed the crystal web to the tree. He couldn’t help smiling a little in satisfaction.

“Any other mako stuff?” Max asked.

Nero thought for a moment. Again the shadows flashed, leaving more objects in his hands: a few cocoons of purple and deepest blue, as well as a few thin threads of stalactites like purple icicles.

“Perfect,” Max declared once Nero had attached them to the tree.

\---

Later, long after Nero and Max had left, Vincent opened the black lacquered cabinet that held his ancestor shrine. He lit a couple of candles, and a stick of incense, and sat on the floor, watching the flames flicker. The only other light came from the little Yule tree behind him, its colored lights casting a soft glow over the room. 

Beside the little porcelain offering bowls, he had set a photo of his father; it was blurry, just a copy of his father’s old I.D. card from Shinra, but it was the only picture he had of Grimoire Valentine. 

There was no photo of his mother. What Grimoire had done with any photos they’d had, after his wife was gone, Vincent had no idea. Because she’d loved green, growing things, Vincent had set a small potted plant on top of the cabinet, near the window where it could get some light.   
There were two other small photos placed in the cabinet: One of Lucrecia’s I.D. card, and one of Sephiroth’s. Vincent still believed that Sephiroth had been his own son, so that made Lucrecia a part of his family, in his heart if nowhere else. 

Now, sitting there in silence with only these small reminders of lost loved ones, he closed his eyes and searched for some sign that they were with him in spirit. Lucrecia had loved the Yule season, always finding joy in the lights, the songs, and the creativity of decorating. He’d only spent the one Yule in Nibelheim, before everything went to hell. 

It had snowed heavily, and Lucrecia had been feeling down, missing her family and friends. Vincent had trekked into the village in search of something special. He’d been astonished to find flowers, expensive imports brought in only for the holidays. 

He’d come back to the mansion with red roses and white lilies, carefully wrapped against the cold. Holly grew outside the mansion, so he cut a few branches, berries and all, and tucked them in with the flowers. It had cheered Lucrecia, for a few days at least, and her smile was all the gift he’d wanted in return.

What Sephiroth had thought of the holiday, Vincent never knew. He’d never seen him as a baby, or a child, or anything except the mad general--not in life. In his dreams, well, that was another story. Having to tell Lucrecia, dreaming under crystal, that her son had died, ranked among the most heartbreaking things Vincent had ever had to do.

I wish you could have known him, Lu. He wasn’t always...well, maybe things would have turned out differently if you’d had the chance to be there with him.

And maybe, against all odds, Nero might’ve had an older brother to look up to. 

A soft footstep alerted him to Veld’s approach. Veld’s arms slipped around his shoulders from behind.

“Reminiscing?” asked Veld, his voice low.

“Something like that.” Vincent put a hand over Veld’s--over the real one, warm against his chest. “I was just wondering what it would’ve been like for both my sons to have known each other.” 

“Big brother and little brother, eh?”

“Kind of. They wouldn’t have been that far apart in age.” Vincent tilted his head up to look at Veld. “Imagine it, Veld. One light, one dark, and both of them far more talented than their old man. If things had been different, had been better, Sephiroth might’ve played with Felicia, and all of us could’ve been together.”

“Hmm. And what about Lucrecia?” said Veld, his voice carefully neutral.

“Well…” Vincent shrugged. “We could’ve worked something out. If it wasn’t for Kalm, and Jenova, and Meteor, and all of that…” His voice wobbled a bit, and he stopped, swallowing the sudden lump in his throat.

“Hey.” Veld tightened his hold around Vincent’s shoulders. “Don’t do that. Let them rest, Vince. I’m here, you’re here, and most important, Nero is here. You said before you’ve been given a second chance. Take it and run, and don’t let go.”

Vincent nodded. “It’s just, this time of year…”

“I know. Believe me, I know.” Gently, Veld tugged him to his feet. “Come on, it’s late. Time for bed.”

“Right again, as usual,” Vincent grumbled. “Why is that?”

“Because I’m an old bastard of a Turk,” said Veld, with obvious contentment. “Let’s go. Tomorrow you can help me explain hanging up the stockings to your son.”

\--

“So this is based on history,” Nero said, eyeing the oversized sock.

“Yep. Couple hundred years ago, poor families began to find gifts of coins or food in the laundry they’d left out to dry. People still put decorative socks up as a throwback to that gift of charity.”

“But...we don’t need charity,” Nero said, looking around the rental house. To him, it still seemed fabulously plush and luxuriant.

“Well, no,” Veld agreed, “but it’s more the principle of the thing. It’s a way to let your family members know that you care about them. I think that’s why sock presents are often practical stuff. I usually got a tooth brush, tooth paste, a pencil, and maybe an apple in my stocking when I was a kid.”

Nero nodded. “Very useful. Sounds like your mother was very aware of dental hygiene.”

Veld chuckled. “Well, dentists were expensive back then. Apple a day and all that.”

“Huh?”

“Oh, it’s a saying. Folk wisdom. The idea is that eating fruit and vegetables is a preventative measure to keep you in good health.”

“Ah. Gotcha.” A pause as Nero arranged his stocking. “Is your mom still around?”

“Nah, she passed while I was underground- er, when I was in hiding with my daughter.”

Nero was quiet for a long moment. “We took a lot from you, didn’t we.”

It was not a question. Veld opened his mouth to reply, but Vincent beat him to it.

“Shinra took a lot from us. From you, from me, from Veld, from everyone. No one here holds you personally responsible for anything, okay?”

“Okay,” Nero said with a nod. He didn’t look as if he completely believed that.


	4. Parade

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Local color

It was Veld’s idea to go and watch the local parade. Nero had agreed, perhaps prematurely, having thought he knew what a parade was. He’d been in parade thousands of time. Watching the WRO troops form up for inspection was something he would be familiar with, or it would have been if that was what had happened.

There were troops, but only a small color guard with flags followed by four cavalry mounted on chocobos. That and another group in historic dress bearing antique firearms were all that could be counted as military. The rest both boggled and fascinated him.

Veld had had to explain the gaggle of people in period garb bearing an obviously fake griffon’s head on a small litter, and another with a chocobo skull on a long pole with streamers and ribbons. Nero wasn’t sure he completely understood. 

The brass band, and local sports teams, and packs of school-aged “scouts” made some modicum of sense. The floats confounded him on a number of levels, beautiful as they were. Having wrapped candy thrown at him, he could have done without.

The children in the crowd had been excited before, but their enthusiasm had reached a fever pitch as the parade went on.

“Must be Father Frost,” Veld said, smiling.

“Who?” Nero tried to ask, but the question was drowned in shrill screams as the children began to jump and clap their hands.

A carriage pulled by two chocobos had come into view. Seated in the carriage was an old man with a flowing white beard dressed in fur robes. Beside him sat a young woman in a frothy blue and white gown of tulle and lace with white fur trim. Both were laughing and smiling, waving to the children. Each must have had a low-level ice materia because every now and then one or the other would send a swirl of snowflakes into the air.

 _‘By my troth!’_ Omega exclaimed, suddenly taking notice. _‘The pantomime has begun! We are out of countenance! Rouse yourself at once, my boy!_

 _‘Wait, what?’_ Nero thought back.

‘The mystery play!’ Omega replied, as if this should explain everything. _‘Father Frost and his daughter the Snow Maiden herald the new year and the end of the oppressive darkness of winter. Together they drive off the Long Dark.’_

_‘Right. Symbolism. Okay. Why are you getting all loud now?’_

Omega gave a frustrated sigh. _‘The ancient dance: light and darkness, life and death. One transitions seamlessly to the other, both are necessary. Which reminds me, as my vessel, you must perform your part.’_

_‘My what now?’_

_‘Your role! As bearer of Omega you must rise up as the Longest Night. Forward!’_

_‘What? No!’_

But it was too late. Despite a desperate attempt to block him, Omega surged forward. Nero felt his body dissolve into shadow, reforming into a shape far larger and more powerful than his mortal body.

“BEHOLD THE LONGEST NIGHT!” Omega boomed, spreading arms and wings wide. Several people screamed, those standing nearest grabbing their children and fleeing in terror.

 _‘Stop it!’_ Nero pleaded. _‘You’re gonna get us shot!’_

Omega was undeterred.

“DARKNESS IS MY KINGDOM, AND DEATH IS IN MY HAND! I SUFFER NOT THE SUN TO SHINE UPON THIS SEASON FOR IT BELONGS TO ME!”

He advanced on Father Frost and the Snow Maiden. Both stared at him wide-eyed. The Snow Maiden clutched at her father's robes, obviously afraid.

“WHO DARES TO CHALLENGE MY REIGN?” Omega looked meaningfully at Father Frost.

The old man shook himself and spoke. “Forsooth! It is my enemy the Longest Night!”

“Err...yes!” the Snow Maiden agreed after slightly too long a beat. “Begone, for I shall never marry you!”

Omega laughed, the perfect parody of a melodrama villain. Nero mentally facepalmed.

“STAND ASIDE, OLD MAN, FOR THE SUN SHALL NE’ER AGAIN SHOW ITS FACE SO LONG AS MY POWER HOLDS.”

“Back, fiend!” Father Frost bellowed, standing and climbing down from the carriage. The Snow Maiden hopped down beside him.

“We will endure your tyranny no longer! No season- neither of darkness, nor of light- may last forever! Go back to your home in the shadows!” With that, he threw a snowball at Omega.

 _‘Oh gods please don’t kill them,’_ Nero begged.

Internally, Omega laughed. Outside…

The snowball struck him squarely in the chest. He made a show of staggering back as if wounded.

“YOU STRIKE ME WITH THE NEW YEAR’S FIRST SNOW?”

“Yes!” The Snow Maiden cried, manufacturing more snowballs and firing them at him one after the other. “Spring follows winter! Life follows death! You shall follow us no more until the sun sinks again!”

Omega let out a dramatic wail and stumbled to his knees.

“ALAS! I AM UNDONE! UNTIL THE NEXT YEAR, THEN! UNTIL THE NEXT YEAR!”

The crowd applauded as Omega withdrew, leaving Nero kneeling on the street, dazed. Without missing a beat, Father Frost and the Snow Maiden each lifted him by an arm and helped him take a confused bow.

“That was great, kid!” Father Frost whispered. “Wish the planners had told us. You ‘bout gave me a heart attack!”

“It...was a last minute thing,” Nero said, still bleary.

“Nero!”

The parade had moved on, and it was Vincent and Veld who stood on either side of him now.

“Bahamut’s tail, what was that?” Veld asked.

Nero rubbed his face with one hand, head aching. “Omega wanted to be part of the show. Can we do something else?”

“Of course.” Taking his arm, Vincent guided Nero away from the lingering onlookers.

“Come on, let’s go get some hot chocolate. There’s a booth over here selling hot drinks.”

\--

Nero felt a bit better after a cup of hot chocolate and a s’more. With the parade over, the spectators had moved on to other amusements. Aside from cocoa and s’mores, there was popcorn and kettle corn, little cookies with elaborate designs made in what looked like a tiny waffle iron, mulled cider and wine, hot chestnuts and potatoes, and endless sweets.

Vendors in little pop-up stalls lined the main street, adding a second layer of shops to the ones already there. Craftspeople sold everything from ornaments made of the thinnest slices of wood twirled and twined into elaborate shapes for ornaments, handmade bowls and plates of pottery and wood, as well as several other items that Nero did not immediately recognize.

Father Frost and the Snow Maiden had moved to a pavilion shaped like an oversized gingerbread house. A queue of children had formed, waiting to speak to them.

“What’s that about?” Nero asked, nodding in their direction.

“Oh, the kids are telling Father Frost what they want for Yule.”

At Nero’s blank expression, Veld went on. “Father Frost brings presents with the first snow of the new year.”

“But what if it doesn’t snow?” Nero asked.

“They don’t necessarily come at the same time,” Veld shrugged.

Nero was still confused. “Won’t their parents give them presents?”

“Well, yes, but the kids are meant to think the gifts are from Father Frost. Remember about the stockings? It’s kind of like that.”

“Oh, okay,” Nero said, his ‘I almost understood that’ expression in place.

There were other holiday figures roaming about. To Vincent, it looked as if the inflatable luminaries at the hardware store had come to life. A snowman, a gingerbread man, and a decorated Yule tree were all wandering about, shaking hands and being photographed with the small children they met. The snowman made the mistake of approaching Nero, Vincent, and Veld. Before Vincent could shoo it away, Nero turned and nearly choked on his cocoa when he spotted the snowman less than arm’s reach from him. Nero reacted out of pure reflex, punching the snowman right in his carrot nose.

“Whoa, easy!” Vincent soothed, grabbing Nero’s shoulders. “That’s just a costume. There’s a person under there.”

“I don’t care,” Nero said, eyes wild and still poised for a fight. “Keep that thing away from me!”

Veld took Nero aside, while Vincent extended a hand to give the snowman a lift up. The damage, thank Gaia, was minimal, a bent carrot and a few scuffs to the back of his costume. 

“Apologies,” said Vincent. “He’s combat trained. Instinct, you know. Sorry about that. Won’t happen again.”

The snowman got up with Vincent’s help and stomped off grumbling things not entirely appropriate for a children’s mascot.

“You okay?” Vincent asked once the costumed abomination had gone.

“Yeah,” Nero said, obviously still dizzy with adrenaline. “I just reacted. Sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it,” said Vincent, adding under his breath, “I always wanted to do that.”

Nero laughed a little at that.

“Had enough, kid?” Veld asked.

“Yeah,” Nero said, sounding apologetic. Veld patted him warmly on the shoulder.

“It’s fine. You did good. Did you like any of it?”

Nero thought about that for a minute. “Yeah. Aside from getting possessed by an amateur actor and assaulted by a frozen freak of nature, it was good.” The lopsided smile proved he was teasing.

Vincent laughed and clapped him on the shoulder. “Good.”


End file.
